


the basketball in which kuroko plays.

by HIDECEST



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basketball, Bastard Aomine Daiki, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Bullying, Death, Depression, Fear, Fluff, Ghost!kuroko, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Suicide, Violence, past self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HIDECEST/pseuds/HIDECEST
Summary: Aomine does not believe in the supernatural, until he does.***Or, the AU a where Kuroko’s a spirit. Takes place when they’re both in middle school and Aomine mistakes Kuroko for a ghost (except this time, he really is one.) Please read the tags.
Relationships: Aomine Daiki/Kuroko Tetsuya
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	the basketball in which kuroko plays.

**Author's Note:**

> read the tags !

At first, Aomine doesn’t believe it. He, of course, has other things to worry about other than the ghost Momoi is pestering him about, that most definitely doesn’t exist and is likely a figment of her scaredy cat imagination. He has other things to do. Like going home, for one.

”I’m serious!” The girl cries, pulling on his shirt, “When I’m locking up the gym, I can hear it, the thud, thud of a basketball,” she nods, “But whenever I open the door, nobody’s in there. It’s silent, still, and so creepy,” she groans, huffing when Aomine gives her back nothing but a blank, bored stare as he spins a basketball on his finger. “Can you check it out for me? Please?”

The darker skinned teen rolls his eyes, shaking the girl off of him with a snicker. “I don’t have time to be ghost hunting, Momoi. Just ask Kise to go with you, or something. I’m sure he’d leap at the chance.” He goes to turn around and head down the hall and is certain he got her to leave him be, before the girl releases a battle cry and jumps onto his back.

”Hey, what the hell?! Get off me, Momoi!” He protested, stumbling. The arms around his neck simply tighten and he gasps like a fish for air. He drops his ball, clawing at the arms suffocating him. “You’re choking me, dumbass!”

”Promise you’ll go check it out!” She yelled, pulling at his ear and being successful in getting a pained hiss out of him. “Promise me, Aomine-kun. Otherwise, I’m not helping you guys with your games anymore,” she huffed. At that Aomine face palmed, letting out an irritated, heavy sigh—well, as much as one he could manage, with her cutting off his air supply.

”Okay, fine! I’ll go later tonight and take a look, okay, you little shit? Now would you please get the hell off me? You’re like a hundred pounds,” Aomine grumbled, still clawing at her hands. She only dropped off of him once he scratched her with a nail, resulting in the girl shrieking and swatting at his arm. He inhales deeply, coughing and regaining his breath, hand on his chest.

She smiled brightly at him, batting her innocent eyes as if she hadn’t nearly killed him. “Thanks, Aomine-kun!” She yelled, before immediately turning around and dashing down the hallway. The blue haired teen stared at her, eye twitching with annoyance as she left. It was only once she was no longer in sight and he could actually breathe did he pick up the basketball he’d dropped and continued down his trek outside.

_Ghost_ , Aomine thought with a snort, rubbing at his abused neck, _Yeah right._

* * *

The next day after school, Momoi gives him the key to the gym. She insists he go alone, and that’s when Aomine suspects that the Generation of Miracles are planning some sort of prank. But then he remembers that majority of those guys are too pompous and intense to bother with something like that, so he brushes that idea out of the way, tossing it to the back of his mind.

Aomine goes home, coming back to the school with a duffel bag. He figured he’d spend the night; it was going to rain later on, and even though he had a perfectly functioning umbrella, he didn’t want to go back and forth from his house to the gym. _Too much work,_ he thought offhandedly, especially without knowing whether or not what Momoi told him was true or not.

He brings just the essentials; a flashlight to navigate his way, a fresh school uniform for tomorrow, a few snacks and drinks and a few dirty magazines, his bag with all his school supplies, and, of course, his own basketball. Aomine tosses his bags over the school gate before climbing up it himself, landing onto firm concrete and slinging his things over his shoulder again.

He takes out the flashlight, making his way towards the building. The school is peaceful in a way; the sky is dark, with the afar rumbling of clouds and strike of thunder. It looks abandoned, almost, and the old, worn out appearance of said school makes this even more so. He fumbles, grabbing his key from his pocket, about to unlock the door and head inside before he remembers what Momoi told him.

_The thudding of a basketball._ Right, he thinks with a disbelieving, mocking roll of his eyes, pressing his ear firmly against the door and doing his best to listen. There’s nothing, just like he expected. Aomine looks at the watch on his wrist; it’s around eleven PM at night, and if there are any ghosts around, well, he figured this was a good time to make themselves known.

He sighs, sitting on the steps that lead into the gym, but not before unlocking the door. It begins to rain, but he’s safely covered by the tarp above his head. Aomine lets himself lean back against the door, and there he remains still; quiet, breath getting slower and slower as the day’s exhaustion finally manages to creep up on him, making his muscles lax.

He thinks maybe ten.. maybe twenty minutes have passed, but he’s not sure, just relaxing in the darkness of his closed eyes and the pitter patter of the rain. Maybe he should do this more often— it’s peaceful, unusually so, like a wave of relief flooding over him...

And then he hears it.

Aomine’s eyes snap open, his body goes completely rigid and for a second he even stops breathing. He can hear it, though small; the thud, thud, _thud_ and the squeaking of shoes. He almost wants to believe it’s just his own imagination, but that seems incredibly stupid, considering how clear it sounds.

He moves from his position, sitting up with the speed of a snail as he cautiously pushes open the heavy metal door, peeking in through the crack. But as soon as he did, the sound was gone, and all that was left was an old, faded basketball on the floor that was rolling towards him. He stares, eyes wide, as the object finally stops just before the blue line, almost as if daring him to come in.

A breeze passes in that instant, something that makes him shiver. The teen stands, grabbing his duffel and stepping into the gym with a weary glance around. The lights are off, but he can see perfectly thanks to the large, thick windows that let the moon’s light shine in, like water overflowing a glass.

Aomine drops his bags at his feet, the door behind him shutting with a click. He steps forward, the unmistakable feeling of someone watching him, their eyes digging into his back settling onto him. He feels it like a burning hot brand and distantly, he wishes he’d at least brought someone along with him.

The gym is quiet. Too quiet, and Aomine can hear nothing but his own breathing and the rain from the outside. With his foot he nudges the basketball, watching it roll forward as he does. There’s something engraved into it; some initials, he reads. The initials of K.T. 

There are other words there, too, as he picks up the ball and turns it around in his hands, even though it feels wrong, like he shouldn't be touching it because it’s not his— he’s never felt a feeling quite as intense as the one now, with this harmless sports ball in his hand. As he turns it he reads other words, _Freak. Go die. Don’t ever play again,_ and other various horrid, disgusting insults written on it.

The dark teen’s eyebrows furrow, a shaky exhale leaving him as he sets the ball back down. Lightning crashes from about, nearly making him jump out of his skin. He settles down though, quickly glancing around the gym for anything to settle him. The thunder seems so loud now, and the atmosphere shifts, going from something heavy to something light and mysterious.

He turns around, deciding to give a once over of the whole place to just, of course, make sure it wasn’t anybody fucking with him. The teen grabs his flashlight, flicking it on and pointing it towards the darkened corners of the gym, eyes not missing a single square inch of the place.

It doesn’t startle him. What does, though, however, is the way the basketball that was once at his feet is now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Aomine blinks. Once. Twice. He rubs his eyes. Once. Twice. Three times. Still no basketball, and he knows he hadn’t hallucinated it. From behind he hears a noise; a quiet snicker, small little laughter from behind that has his heart racing as he quickly turns around again, eyes locking onto the sight of a mop of blue hair and the gym door shutting after it.

“Hey— Wait!” he calls, nearly stumbling over his feet in his rush to get to the door, pointing his flashlight up. It was a person, he knows it was. The teen yanks the door open, only to find no one out there, nothing but darkness and heavy rain. 

“What the fuck,” Aomine breathes out. He’s got half a mind to just grab his shit and go, and probably avoid this gym for the rest of the schoolyear. And he plans on doing just that before he hears the thudding of the basketball again.

He freezes then and there, back straight like a stick. It’s a rhythm sound, a carefully timed thud. It’s a sound that usually has Aomine sparkling with interest and joy, but now it’s just fear striking his heart.

He turns, very slow, to find the ball dribbling up and down in a perfectly straight line. He stares at it with a bewildered look, can hear the blood rushing to his ears, feels his fear make him freeze. 

The ball keeps his attention for too long, however. It stops shortly after and Aomine releases a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding, shoulders sagging with relief. 

Whatever is messing with him isn’t done yet, however, because the dark haired teen feels a gentle tap on his shoulder and shrieks, jumping up and startled to hell, turning around immediately and letting out another scream upon being met face to face with the sudden presence of a boy he’d never seen in his life. 

“Holy fuck,” Aomine shouts, taking a step back, “Who are you? Why would you sneak up on me like that? Come on, man,” he drags out, trying to regain his breath. It’s only until he looks at the boy again that he sees the heavy amounts of blood staining his clothing— particularly his head— he looks as if he had come out of a horror movie. In his hands resides the basketball that had just been bouncing mere moments ago. 

He stares, dumbfounded, looking into blank, dull pale blue eyes. The silence that settles over them is so eerie that Aomine holds his breath in. 

“I like your shoes,” the boy says, finally, and his words are probably the most startling thing Aomine has heard all night. They’re unusually calm and clear; he looks down at said shoes. They’re red Nikes. 

Aomine looks to the boy, his body on high alert. “Th—.. Thanks,” he croaks slowly, finally taking a breath. “Who are you? Why do you look like that?” He questions, voice shaking. Because the kid before him looks as if he’d been murdered; the Teiko uniform adorns his body, so he was definitely a student (though not one Aomine had ever seen before), and those heavy amounts of red all over him. It’s so strong that Aomine can literally smell if from where he stands, it makes him want to hurl. 

“I can’t control how I look,” the boy replies, settling for bouncing the ball again. It makes him look a little more innocent. 

Aomine settles slowly. “I know what this is,” he mutters. It seems his past predictions had been wrong. He places his hands on his hips, looking around the gym with an annoyed look. “Alright, you shitheads, I know what you’re pulling here. Very funny. Prank’s over!” He calls, beginning to walk around. “Come on, Kise, Midorima. I know this is all of your guy’s doing,” he calls into the vast expanse. 

“I know Midorima,” The boy says, now suddenly besides him and making Aomine jump again. “He’s the one with the green hair. Looks like a broccoli to me,” hums the stranger. “He’s scary.”

”You’re scary,” Aomine wails, shaking his head. “Look, I know this is all a prank, okay? You can call everybody out now. And dude, I don’t know where you got that fake blood from, but it seriously reeks. You should go shower.”

The stranger stares at him with empty eyes and Aomine feels instantly uneasy, like he offended the boy before him. And suddenly, as if he never was there, the boy is gone, and Aomine yelps in surprise, eyes wide as he scans his surroundings for him again. “What..?!”

”I’m not pranking you,” a voice says from behind him, and _Jesus Christ the kid is literally going to give me a fucking heart attack,_ Aomine thinks, jumping away again. “A prank like this would be really mean. Too severe,” he says, casting his eyes downward. “Right, Aomine?”

Despite the fact that they’re inside, he feels a breeze cut through him, drilling him. Aomine’s eyes widen slowly as he takes a step forward, his hand hesitantly going out to touch the boy’s shoulder, and he releases a startled gasp to find it go through him completely. 

“You.. you..” He starts, his fear building up. “You’re not— you’re not real, you’re not human. What the hell are you?” He questions raggedly, voice turning into a rough whisper at the end as he retreats his hand back, “Are you a ghost?”

The boy gives a slight smile at him, yet it doesn’t look happy. “Something like that,” he says sadly. “No one can see me. No one has for a long time,” he murmurs, “I don’t let them, I don’t like to be seen. Especially by the scary people,” he continues, “I wanted to show myself to your friend— the one with the pink hair? She seems so nice, but she gets startled really easy,” he says in a depressed kind of way, rolling the ball between his hands. “Maybe that’s what you two have in common.”

Aomine can’t believe it, even though he knows he has to. He’s talking to a spirit. A ghost. A dead person, he thinks with a shudder. And it looks like the boy didn’t go peacefully, Aomine notices. Not one bit. 

“Oh, my name is Kuroko,” the boy says. “I know who you are already. You’re Aomine Daiki. You play really well. So well that you’re bored, even,” the ghost — Kuroko — tells him. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s really easy to watch people when nobody can see you..” he taps the ball absentmindedly. “Sorry for scaring you, it was kind of funny, though. I won’t do it again, promise.”

Aomine is stunned, still, into silence, swallowing thickly and trying desperately to make the anxiety within him go away. It’s only a ghost. Just a ghost he’s talking to, of course, just a normal part of his daily routine, talking to dead people.

He holds back his urge to scream and just straightens up a little. “You’re.. Yeah, you’re right,” he says weakly, unable to wrap his head around the situation. It feels so impossible, but it’s not, something that makes it even more terrifying. He wants to leave. He’s scared out of his fucking mind. “I’m Aomine.”

“Would you like to play basketball with me?” The boy asks, and Aomine fucking _loses it._

He screams, leaves, and doesn’t look back, all his things still on the gym floor as he hops over the fence, trips before running away in a panic.


End file.
